


a letter to marble

by thisisallthereis



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Other, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisallthereis/pseuds/thisisallthereis
Summary: a vent. maybe a replacement for a therapist.





	a letter to marble

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to dump this here. not a fandom work, just a story.

if there was a god in this vast expanse of universe, would he have designed me to drown underneath the polluted ocean that is you? you aren't the only one to consume my thoughts, but you consume me, pulling me under, holding my lungs hostage. a silent scream attracts no one. i cannot think, for even the slightest thought pulls me back to you. 

such perfect skin. i remember that distinctly. i loved his skin. the complexion alone was beautiful, carved out of stone like marble, the color of polished dark oak wood, perfectly smoothed into something despicable. his eyes were evil. hateful remnants of a cruel father he had been subjected to. i had admired his bravery. the way the world seemed to stand down to him, letting him make his own path. he was not burdened by wars that were not his to fight. i begged to know the secrets that kept his eyes so cruel in a desperate attempt to become the same.

i can remember the way he would hold me, the force of a sickening love. in truth, he loved to feel me afraid. i should have been terrified of the evil behind his eyes, but i was never afraid of him. he struck me for the first time in an empty field, a slap, nothing more. fair skin turned red, a welt forming underneath hollow eyes. he explained it to me, explained that i deserved it. i kept deserving it, every time he raised his hand or swung his leg back. this was my punishment for ever believing that a war could be forgotten. my punishment for trying to push the war inside of me away. i deserved the pain of ignorance. 

in a bathroom that reeked of urine and body odor, tiles half peeled up from the floor, the walls adorned with holes, i felt my first doubt for the marble-made teen. the metal clasp of a belt to the shoulder, a tear before cowardly running off in retreat. in my corner of temporary safety i scratched into a styrofoam plate what i wanted to be my last words. a childish act, though not much else could be expected from a child.

_i hate you._

he held me closer than usual that night, a threat, a promise. the next morning i realized exactly what the promise entailed. a mark to remember the softness of his skin, the danger in his eyes. a mark made by fire and rage. i cried into the fabric surrounding his marble while he called me what i was. a coward. i couldn't even take what i deserved, how could i ever get eyes as mean as his, eyes that would fight my battles, win my wars.

the midnight games made me long for an escape. his marble hands were too cold on my human body. the mark left in deservance unwillingly graced by the cold smoothness of his stony hands. i was a prisoner of the war he had created within me. 

a midnight endured alone left me wondering if it was truly hate i felt towards this man of polished oak. i missed his comfort. the cold, unfeeling marble. his eyes were back the next day, holding me captive. i relinquished in it. the escape i previously craved now replaced with an unnatural longing. 

_hold me captive, just don't leave me alone._

i can still feel the marble. the intricately carved hands upon my throat, threatening. the tip of department store shoes colliding with my shins, bringing instinctual tears. 

_coward. fight your battles._

i was always too afraid to fight. 

one midnight stood out among the others. a house left silent, adults out at an unknown location. i took advantage of my mother's empty bed, embracing the comfort of a room to myself, a bed without the weight of another. 

i could never truly escape the living statue that sought for my destruction. i was never able to escape it before, it was ignorant to assume i could ever, if even for a night. he was aggressive, almost as if he was hurt that i would leave him, though i knew it wasn't i who we truly cared for. he was aggressive in a new way, exposing my human body to his marble, a dim lamp illuminating what made me different from him. my emotional eyes begged his cold, angry ones. he cast a shadow onto me, covering me with the same dark evil that resided behind his eyes, and i cowered beneath it, afraid. 

the morning left me alone, exposed to the sunlight that came in through cracks of broken blinds. a nine year old body, bruised and defeated. it wasn't the last time he would ask me the question i can still hear today. the question that pushed me to the back of my mother's closet in a silent agony, wordless gasps mixing with quiet tears. 

_do you love me?_

i wanted to say no but i was groomed into loved this statue. this carved marble with mean, mean eyes. a lifelike figure that could never love me back, never feel regret for the things he had done. i was groomed into having these thoughts, this longing touch of marble to flesh. i was groomed into loving someone who loved watching me hurt. 

 


End file.
